Tang Feiliu set out by carriage once more, with Ivans seated beside him. The driver guided the horse from the front. Though said to be a short distance, the journey by carriage still took three or four days. Before departing, Tang Feiliu prepared bread, jam, small pieces of smoked meat, and brought along some baked, dried rolls.
Truthfully, though the duke was immensely wealthy—rumored to rival even the emperor in the palace—his domain was vast and prosperous... yet these were mere legends. Having grown up in the modern world, living in a seventy-square-meter two-bedroom apartment, Tang Feiliu couldn't truly grasp the concept of hectares.
Yet to Tang Feiliu, this wealth meant a standard of living that, in certain respects, fell far short of that enjoyed by a modern person of average economic means.
Especially since Duke Edward was fundamentally indifferent to such matters. He lived like an ascetic. By the time Tang Feiliu left the castle, the Duke had resumed his morning training regimen. Each dawn, before the sun rose, he would lead his knights out of the castle to practice stealth and mock combat in the mountains.
York currently basked in tranquility, with the empire and its neighbors enjoying peaceful relations, intertwined by marriage alliances. All nobles indulged in hedonistic excess, taking pride in skin so pale blue veins were visible. Edward, then, stood as an anomaly among the aristocracy.
Tang Feiliu, however, felt quite fortunate to reside within this unconventional duke's domain. At least this allowed him to travel in the carriage specially prepared for him by the duke's orders.
This was a straightforward task: locate Roman cement paste, refine it, then fire it into cement pipes for the castle's underground water system. Once Edward's assigned servants mastered the process, Tang Feiliu could return to the castle and have them haul the materials back. Though it would take some time, it also gave Tang Feiliu a chance to truly see this era he was destined to live in.
Tang Feiliu set off with remarkable ease, carrying his slightly worn calfskin trunk while the brand-new suitcase prepared by old Dave trailed behind him. The duke even tacitly allowed his steward and the castle's new administrator to discreetly take some expensive spices from under his nose. He watched as Steward Dave assigned a second chef to accompany the picky new administrator on his journey, and observed Old Dave having the senior maid, Daisy, work overtime sewing new clothes—York's winter was fast approaching. and though a Duke Edward's constitution could still manage breathable cotton-linen, Tang Feiliu possessed no such robust constitution. He was already beginning to feel his hands and feet grow icy.
Fortunately, though the chill had set in, the true winter was still a long way off. Tang Feiliu set off with ease. Upon arrival, he found the cement factory's location modest—less a town than a rough Western-style rural settlement.
The heart of the settlement was the Roman Cement Factory. With the factory workers came taverns and small inns catering to merchants trading cement.
With the owner's permission, prostitutes lingered in the taverns and inns, dressed in outfits that seemed daring for the era—cropped pumpkin pants and corsets laced tightly at the ribs, pushing their snow-white breasts high and soft like fluffy clouds.
Some drank or flirted with patrons; the older ones mostly drank and smoked beside the laborers. Those with a touch of beauty, dressed to appear younger and more alluring, fanned themselves while casting wanton, coquettish smiles at merchants from afar or the senior valets and butlers of minor gentry.
It was a scene steeped in history, thick and rich like an oil painting with stark contrasts. Women in cotton undergarments laughed and joked with cigar-smoking men, while outside, dust swirled from passing carriages.
"...Perhaps we shouldn't stay here." Tang Feiliu, who had just arrived, felt no inclination to admire this ukiyo-e-like scene. The pungent smell of cheap tobacco and the overpowering scent of women's perfumes immediately made him regret his decision to stay at the nearest inn.
The knight accompanying him was named Jace. During their journey, Tang Feiliu learned of Jace's background. Like Tang Feiliu, he had been the second son of a small estate owner, though his luck had been better. He shared a close bond with his biological elder brother, and his mother, still alive, had provided him ample care. Thus, when his father died and it came time to divide the estate, his brother generously supported him with a full fifty pounds, plus some private funds from his mother.
Jesse himself proved highly capable, passing the knight selection trials in his teens. The late duke had cared little for his knights—so obese in his twilight years he could only rise with his valet’s aid—nor for their training. To him, they were mere ornaments for display.
Yet Jace never succumbed to the decadent ways of the duke's castle. He diligently trained himself, never gambling or sneaking out to court country girls, nor did he let his figure become distorted by overeating.
Thus, when Edward returned to York, Jace alone stood out among the ranks of knights who had let themselves go. He was kept behind, placed alongside the knights Edward had brought with him, and trained under Edward's own guidance.
This was a source of immense pride for Jess. Whenever anyone mentioned it, he'd become so excited his hair seemed to catch fire, his freckles turning crimson.
"I told you you'd regret it, Don," he said, blinking his gray-green eyes with a hint of playful amusement. The next moment, he stepped in front of the approaching women. "Hey, ladies! My master is only sixteen. You can't lay a finger on such a young lad!"
The girl had brown hair and deep-set eyes, her irises a transparent brown like glass marbles. She giggled at his words, running a finger lightly across Jace's muscular arm. "Well then, what about this handsome knight here? You seem old enough to me."
Tang Feiliu felt like covering his ears. This flirting was far more explicit than anything he'd seen in modern times. As a virgin across two lifetimes, he'd never encountered such a scene.
He felt so embarrassed he could practically catch fire. Hurriedly turning to Jace, he said, "Alright, I think we should go. We're quite busy, after all."
Saying this, Tang Feiliu dared not look at the radiantly beautiful girl before him, lowering his head and turning to leave.
He heard both Jess and the girl burst into laughter behind him. Jess said, "Though leaving like this when invited by such a beauty is rude to your charm, please forgive me. After all, I must escort my master back to safety."
He deliberately emphasized the word "safety," then shared another cheerful laugh with the girl.
Tang Feiliu's face and neck flushed crimson. But being naturally quiet and somewhat of a homebody, he couldn't argue with Jace in his embarrassment. Thus, he stormed into the carriage, refusing to speak for the entire journey.
Jesse, however, remained completely oblivious to the mild-mannered Tang Feiliu's sudden irritation. He continued laughing heartily, for the two shared similar backgrounds—one a newly appointed administrator, the other a knight—with statuses not vastly different. Their journey thus unfolded like that of friends, and Jesse was thoroughly amused by having successfully provoked Tang Feiliu's anger.
It wasn't until they arrived at the cement factory manager's residence that Jace finally managed to put on a solemn expression.
This was Edward's domain, and the cement factory belonged to him. The manager, Ross, had originally been a merchant. His cement factory had become so wildly successful that nobles began plundering it. In a fit of rage, Ross proactively sold his factory to the Duke, securing a twenty percent annual profit share in return. Moreover, he gained the Duke's formidable protection, which only fueled the factory's growth. His income now exceeded what he had earned before.
Upon hearing this, Tang Feiliu recognized Ross as a born businessman. Consequently, Tang Feiliu didn't wish to disturb Mr. Ross. His initial plan to stay at an inn stemmed from the fact that although this area belonged to the duke, Edward hadn't built a manor here. This land was allocated to the cement factory, and while there were villages nearby, they were predominantly populated by workers. No local gentry owned land here, so naturally, there was no manor available for lodging.
Having learned Mr. Ross possessed no manor, Tang Feiliu recognized him as a man of modern ideas. Though financially well-off, he had invested his wealth not in land but in a small cotton mill he owned. Consequently, his living quarters were modest.
But the inn's conditions were truly abysmal. Tang Feiliu had no choice but to grit his teeth and head to Mr. Ross's home—and then he was utterly speechless.
The so-called Mr. Ross didn't own an estate; his family lived rather modestly—in what turned out to be a large garden villa with fourteen rooms spread across two floors. It featured separate reception rooms and guest quarters, along with an independent living area, resembling a standalone three-bedroom apartment.
Well, how to put it? Compared to the duke who lived in the "tiny" Black Swan Castle with over a thousand rooms—a man so "unpretentious he hardly seemed noble"—this place was indeed rather modest and cramped. And compared to the "small estate garden house" with over seventy rooms that Tang Feiliu remembered from his days as a gentleman's son, it certainly lacked grandeur.
Tang Feiliu once again grasped the gap in imagination between modern people and these genuine ancient tycoons. Mr. Ross clearly yearned to host the sheriff, the duke’s favored guest—an honor that made him beam with pride. He led Tang Feiliu, who had just rested, on a tour of his home, blushing as he apologized for its simplicity. This once more jolted Tang Feiliu, accustomed to seventy square meters of space, until finally, dinner time arrived.
"...To express my gratitude for your hospitality, might I request my chef prepare tonight's banquet?" Tang Feiliu inquired with a polite smile, then winked playfully. "Of course, I'll need your finest chef to assist."
Mr. Ross paused, then rubbed his hands together excitedly, stammering, "Thank you so much! This... this is truly... Marianne, hurry and take little Jenny to instruct the kitchen!"
Mrs. Ross, dressed in her most formal reception gown, flushed crimson with excitement. She curtsied to Tang Feiliu before hurrying away—one could only wonder how such a tightly laced waist managed to move so swiftly.
The gap in knowledge was vast, especially in less progressive times. Tang Feiliu simply didn't fancy saffron-cinnamon swan, but for Mr. Ross, possessing a dish originating from the Duke's castle would undoubtedly make him the talk of the social scene.
With the winter social season just months away, his daughter might soon be entering society. Such an endorsement—hosting the duke's steward and possessing a secret recipe from the duke's estate—might mean young Jenny wouldn't need a large dowry to marry the son of a small estate owner and become a lady of the manor!
No wonder Mr. Ross was so excited, even flustered.
Tang Feiliu recalled small estates and country life in his memories—a deliberate recollection. Seeing Mr. Ross's excitement, he smiled, and the two walked side by side to admire Mr. Ross's private art collection.
It was a most pleasant meeting. That very night, under Lady Ross's dictation, Mr. Ross transcribed the Duke's private menu, intending it as the most significant piece of Jenny's dowry. Tang Feiliu, having savored the delicious food, showed no signs of fever or cold despite days of travel. He could begin work in earnest tomorrow—everything was perfectly settled.
Only one person remained deeply disheartened: Jess, who had first provoked Tang Feiliu. He had been served specially prepared fennel-marinated grilled meat chops paired with dry, crumbly bread rolls. Without the contrast of the fragrant dishes before Tang Feiliu and the Ross family, this would have been a sumptuous feast. Yet in comparison, Jess looked pitiful. Tang Feiliu remained unmoved. After finishing all his food, Jess still felt ravenously hungry, as if he’d never truly eaten his fill. After all, he’d fought countless opponents to become the knight escorting the Administrator. Even in the castle, not every meal featured the Administrator’s personally curated delicacies. And now, after finally getting one, he’d missed out!
For the first time, Jace understood: of all the people you shouldn't cross, never cross someone who can cook delicious food. Even if that person was under sixteen, with a frame more delicate and petite than a girl's, skin whiter than milk, and blushing so fiercely at a girl's teasing that he dared not meet her gaze... But if he could cook well, he was one of the most formidable figures in the castle, second only to the Duke himself!
That night, Jace grasped a fundamental truth about life.